First
by blowtorchacurlyfry
Summary: Getting locked in a McKinley High janitorial closet together will do wonders for a relationship. When the football team turn on one of their own, Kurt finds he can relate. Kurt/o.c


Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Glee or Fox Network. For non profit purposes only.

* * *

Kurt pushed open the double doors of McKinley and strode down the front walk from the school, weaving between people, intent on his destination. It was just after 4:45, and he had had a relatively good day. Things went well in Glee today, the hour and forty five minutes he most looked forward to, and what was more, today hadn't been a d-day. No dumpsters, no toilet swirlies, no slushies. He had been shoved into some lockers during passing period, but he chose to overlook that. And Wednesday's were good. Half the week was over. Kurt crossed the parking lot and reached his car, where he stood and fumbled with his keys. He stopped for a moment and listened, cocking his head. He thought he had heard- he turned around in the direction of the athletic complex. Making up his mind, he followed the sound of yelling he heard floating over the grounds. It sounded rowdy. He covered the sloping ground towards the growing sound and peered around some metal bleachers. In the distance, several yards away, were a group of jocks, and they were harassing someone. Kurt could hear the boys pleas. It was difficult to see what exactly was going on, but the sound being emitted was all too familiar. He had been there. As he watched, he heard the sound of a fist contacting, and he could see the victim drop. He was the only one not wearing a Letterman. Kurt watched as the group left their target lying motionless in a heap on the ground and left rowdily, congratulating each other and laughing. Kurt waited for them to leave, then crept out behind his bleachers, and approached silently, throwing a glance over his shoulder. The boy was lying in the grass, sobbing quietly. He had curly, mousy brown hair and long eyelashes, and his long legs were curled into his chest. Kurt dropped his shoulder bag to the ground and kneeled down next to him. Before he could place a hand on the boy's shoulder, the boy sat up quickly and defensively. Kurt understood. He wouldn't want to be caught in such a vulnerable and embarrassing situation either, and he had been, many times.

"Are you going to be okay, dear?"

The boy hastily wiped the tips of his fingers underneath his eyes. He had a split lip, but looked more emotionally hurt than physically. "I'm fine."

Kurt pulled a handkerchief out of nowhere and said-"here," before dabbing at the boys lip. The boy looked baffled. "You don't have to tell me," Kurt said. "I had a date with the dumpster yesterday morning." Then rather bitterly-" I got ketchup on my H&M scarf." The boy smiled, his eyes sparkling. Kurt smiled back. "I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel." "I'm Dylan Farrah." "Pleased to be of service, Dylan." He helped the boy to his feet. The boy was regaining his composure. He was quick to put that moment of weakness behind him, and Kurt noted this. In fact, Kurt was eyeing him very carefully. "It's great to meet someone who understands who doesn't look like he lives for the Math Honor Society or World of Warcraft," Dylan said. "I count dumpster days as good ones. You can always change clothes. Can't change-" he waived a hand at his bruised face. "Tell me about it," Kurt said. "Hey, can I drop you somewhere? My cars just in the lot." Misery immediately flooded back onto the boys face, and a look of dread.

"No thanks," he said, staring fixedly at his shoes. "I have football practice."

* * *

It was Thursday. Tina, Artie, Mercedes and Kurt were in the choir room after class. Kurt was poised on the drum set's stool, idly spinning around, his thoughts outside the classroom. He was the only one not paying attention. The others were chatting, the subject of their conversation lost on Kurt, who was tuning them out.

It hadn't taken long until his thoughts were consumed by Dylan, and he didn't know why. The brief conversation they had had had grown in his mind, until he became convinced he had a crush on the boy. He was intrigued; the fact that he was a footballer the main point of it. To Kurt, the Jocks were practically a different breed, and it had shocked him that one of them could be so.. so.. like that. That the Jocks weren't an impenetrable circle of testosterone, that they beat up one of their own.

He was thinking all this when he realized suddenly that the conversation of his friends had stopped, and that they were calling his name.

"Hmm?" he said. "Earth to Kurt," Artie said. "We were _saying, _Kurt, could you please get the snacks on Friday if Tina and Artie get the movie. It's my turn to host, if you didn't catch that either. What's with you, boy? You've been lost in the clouds."

Kurt stared at his friend, not seeing her. When he spoke, his voice sounded far away. "I can't...I can't come tomorrow. I'm sorry, Mercedes." And with that, he picked up his bag and walked out of the band room. He didn't hear his friend scoff behind him or see her raise her hands in the air in a What the Hell? gesture. He was already gone.

* * *

Kurt was sitting primly with his feet on the backless edge of the row of bleachers in front of him, his arms wrapped around his legs. He was at the end of the row, and had chosen to sit next to a group of adults, who ignored him. His ears already hurt from screaming, and he was currently the only one sitting, as everyone around him was standing as they cheered on the game before them. As everyone sat down again after a communal _Awwww_ of disappointment, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand. What a stupid idea and a waste of time. He had no idea what number Dylan was, and even if he did, it was impossible to follow a single player, as they all looked identical under their masks of football padding. He wished one of his friends were with him, then they could mock the superficial stupidity of the game of football together. If it wasn't for his one reason to be here, a Friday night football game was the last place on earth he would want to be. He was missing movie night at Mercedes', but it was worth it, or so he had thought. His only concern was explaining to his friends what he was up to. He had avoided his friends questions so far, but Mercedes was too sharp, and he guessed she had already figured it out. They hadn't had time to talk one on one, but he had felt her gaze boring into the back of his perfect hair all the way through math class after he had responded 'nothing' to her note that was passed to him during class, asking what was going on. Kurt had made a beeline for the door and vanished before she could confront him face to face. He didn't know why he didn't tell her straight. Maybe because there was nothing to tell. Yet.

He bounced his knee impatiently now, and brought his binoculars up to his eyes again. The jocks on the field were impossible to distinguish beneath the padding and helmets. Kurt scanned the field. He focused in on one of them. He was skinny, skinnier than the rest, but athletically so. A runners body. Could that be him? Kurt watched the boy, eyes glued to him, he followed him around the field. He was number nine. Eventually he was called out to be rotated, and this was when Kurt stood up, straining to see. He could only see the back of the boy. Number nine took off his helmet as he reached the dugout, and for a brief moment, kurt thought he saw curls before he was out of his sight. All he wanted to do was to see him, he kept telling himself.

Kurt stayed for twenty more futile minutes, then left at halftime. This had been pointless, and he felt like a stalker as he got into his car. Maybe he could catch the ending of Thoroughly Modern Millie if he drove to Mercedes' quickly, and apologize for his weird behavior.

* * *

Kurt wasn't stalking Dylan. No, he didn't create a diversion involving toilet paper, hair product, and a piñata from Room 206 and borrow Mr. Shue's computer and access the grade book and get Dylan's schedule after 4th period one day. It was just a coincidence that they started to run into each other in the hallway frequently, even though they shared no classes. Kurt lived to see that boys expression when he spotted him. He had this sideways smile that played with Kurt's insides. After they went their ways after chatting briefly in the hallway, Kurt would find a secluded corner, lean against the wall and look up at the ceiling, exhaling deeply, and think about the last five minutes; their short conversation, replaying it in his mind, making sure he hadn't sounded stupid, or worse, love struck. He was playing it casual, but with obvious friendly interest, right? And the response he was getting from Dylan he wasn't imagining, he wasn't growing this larger than it was in his head, right?

* * *

They were in the choir room, free styling it. Everyone finished the number, and laughing, Kurt just happened to look to the door. There was a face in the skinny window, looking in, but in a second, when they made eye contact, it was gone. Kurt bolted to the door, despite everyone in Glee immediately noticing, and he ignored Mercedes questioning shout of his name. He tore open the choir room door and skidded into the hallway, searching. A head of curls was quickly disappearing into the sea of students. Kurt shouted, "Dylan!", and the boy turned. Kurt ran up to him, not trying to hide the exuberant expression on his face at seeing him.

"I didn't want to intrude, " Dylan started to explain. "I just saw you guys dancing in there, and it just looked like so much fun."

"You should join us," Kurt said. "We have football players in Glee."

"No thanks, I can't hold a note to save my life," he said, with that smile that killed Kurt every time. "But thanks for the offer." Then he looked at Kurt carefully. "I don't want you to think I was creeping on you or anything. I was just on my way to the office when I heard the beat coming out of that room.."

"I wouldn't mind," Kurt said, before he could stop himself. Then he looked down at the floor in embarrassment, and an awkward moment followed. A voice behind Kurt broke this, the last voice he wanted to hear.

"And who be this?" Mercedes had appeared in the hallway behind Kurt. He spun around when he heard her familiar voice. Her eyebrows had practically disappeared into her hair, and a look of utmost skepticism was on her face. Kurt thought _Oh no_.. as Dylan extended his hand, and said, "Hi, I'm Dylan." Mercedes looked him up and down before taking his hand, saying, "Mmm hmm. This the reason you bailed on us last Friday?" she said while linking her arm through her friends. Kurt wanted to punch Mercedes then, but sputtered "What? What are you talking-" "Last Friday. I believe you ditched us to partake in some jocular activity," she said ignoring the not-so-subtle elbowing she was now receiving. Kurt turned back to Dylan, his face incredibly guilty. "I've been found out," he said, in response to Dylan's puzzled expression. Kurt took a breath and said, "I attended your football game on Friday." Dylan's face changed to one of surprise. He looked flattered. "You went? You were there? Why didn't you find me and say hello?"

"I didn't want you to think I was creeping on you," Kurt said. Dylan smiled at him, and Kurt smiled back. Mercedes looked between them. "Alright. Well, it was nice to meet you, _Dylan_," she said pointedly, She now looked more smug than a cat manipulating a bird feeder. "Kurt, I believe we're all waiting for you.." she said as she dragged her boy away. Dylan watched them go, smiling as he overheard Kurt hiss to Mercedes "Would you wipe that look off your face?"

"Oh, boy, you are more transparent than saran wrap on a Christmas pudding."

"Way to humiliate me, Mercedes!"

"On the contrary, I helped to expose your feelings towards that boy-"

"I didn't need your assistance!"

Mercedes ignored this comment, saying "Kurt I am so happy-" the choir room door slammed behind them. The two's arms were still linked all the way through the door.

"Kurt, that's a wrench. I asked you to hand me a tire iron."

"Oh. Sorry, Dad," he said breathily, and then proceeded to hand his father a protective glove instead, still without looking. They were out back, in the shop.

"Kurt, come on, buddy. You've had your head in the clouds for days. You're all lighted up. Don't think I haven't noticed, I just haven't said anything, well, cause..."

Kurt at last turned and looked at his father, and it gushed out. "Oh, Dad. What I'm about to tell you-well- I just want you to know, I got this, you don't have to worry or anything but...It's about a boy."

"Oh god. I knew it. I knew it! That's why I didn't-"

"Omygod dad he's the sweetest boy, I , and I know you probably don't want to hear this, but we just _bonded_, and-" He stopped when he saw the look on his fathers face. It was a mix of uncomfortable, amusement, and happiness for his son, but mostly uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry dad, I'll shut up, but I just want to _tell_ someone-"

"You're sure he's, uh-"

"Yes, I'm sure. Dad I'm sure. My Gaydar's bouncing off the charts."

"Your _what_?"

"Gaydar. Gay radar. I know I don't have a lot of experience spotting, well, these things, but you should see-"

"Son, I'm going to stop you now, as you and I know I'm not set to handle these things. I wish I could. Kurt, I'm happy for you, and if you need any help or anything, you know I'm here for you, but this is just out of my depth. You understand?"

Kurt nodded, too exuberant to let anything dampen him.

"Why don't you go order pizza or something. I'll finish up here."

Kurt hugged his father then, thanked him, and waltzed into the house. Burt looked after his son, his face a myriad of emotion.

* * *

It was actually unexpected when Kurt ran into him after school on Monday, and there was no way for him to foresee the coming events. He had to talk to a teacher, and it was quite late, past four o'clock. The halls were empty. He had his earbuds stuck in his ears, so he didn't hear the shouts when he rounded a corner in the hallway, and almost walked into a group of jocks. They were busy stuffing someone into a Janitorial closet. Kurt froze, his eyes wide in shock. The first thing he sensibly did was quickly stuff his iPod into his bag so it wouldn't get snatched, before the jocks noticed him. They noticed quickly enough. A big guy with sandy blonde hair who seemed to be in charge stepped toward him. "Hey, it's fag number one!" Kurt flinched. He hated that word. It hurt almost more than physical abuse. Almost, but not quite. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and managed to spit out some words. Bitter humor was the best defense he had. "Hey guys. I wasn't uh, invited to your shindig, and I'd-" By this time two of them had grabbed his arms and dragged him forward-"Love to stay, but-" "Shut up, queer. You can join Dyl-pickle and have a little fag party. Just the two of you." At this, Kurt looked and saw who the other victim was. They had him by his forearms, two on each side, and he was currently on his knees. The two made eye contact for a moment. Then Kurt became angry, and did something he knew was futile, and stupid. He elbowed his holder in the stomach, and began to struggle. It happened very quickly. He heard Dylan say "Kurt, no-!" before Kurt received the same treatment he just gave. There was a quick scuffle, and before he knew it, he had been stuffed into the janitors closet. He gave a yell as they slammed the heavy door on his leg- more scuffling, and then the door slammed for good, immersing him and Dylan in darkness. The sickening sound of the door being locked from the outside was heard. Then there was silence. Kurt lay crumpled on the filthy floor clutching his leg, as Dylan futily beat on the door angrily. They both heard the sound of the laughing jocks fade away. A click was heard above him, and yellow artificial light was spilled over them as Dylan pulled a string hanging from the ceiling. The space they were trapped in was extremely cramped-about four feet by four feet. There was a sink, cleaning supplies, and several boxes to add to the jumble, but Kurt didn't see this. His eyes were clenched shut as he clutched his pounding leg. Dylan knelt next to him helplessly. He brushed the hair out of the boys face, before sitting down next to him and lifting Kurt's head to pillow it on his leg. "That was very brave and very stupid." His voice was calm. "I know," Kurt said through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'd probably be in here by myself if you hadn't showed up. Not that I wouldn't trade your company for you not having a bruised leg.."

They sat in silence, Kurt breathing heavily as the initial pain wore into a dull throbbing. The door had slammed right above his ankle, where there was little muscle to take the blow. "I'm glad you're here with me, Kurt."

"My pleasure." Dylan laughed a short, humorless laugh, and Kurt smiled weakly. Dylan pressed his ear to the door. "I don't hear anyone. I think we're screwed."

* * *

It was now 5:10, and Kurt hadn't come home. Burt, not really worried, called his phone. No answer. Maybe Kurt was going over to one of his friends houses, and forgot to tell him..

By 5:30, he began to get anxious. Kurt always called. Where was he?

* * *

"I don't get reception in here," Dylan said, looking at his screen. "Where's your phone?" Kurt told him, and Dylan got it out of his bag and checked it. "Damn! "

"At least..we can play Tetris..if we get bored," Kurt said through gasps of pain. Dylan laughed bitterly, then became quite serious. "I should quit football. Go back to track."

"Why did you join?"

Dylan blew hair through his nose in one short laughless laugh. "Same as anyone. Social benefits. I was tired of being bullied. God, I was an idiot if I thought that would stop by joining up with them. If I thought I could fit in."

There was silence for a moment. Then Kurt said, "Why do you need to fit in?"

"Well I don't know about you, but I think being a bullied loser sucks."

"You're only a loser in their eyes. I knew from the start I could never be one of them, so I never tried. You're lucky you got to be apart of that world. As much as I hate them, we all want to be them. At least you got a chance."

"Yeah. I guess." Silence. "How's the leg?"

"It hurts."

"I'm sorry."

Kurt looked up at his face at the same time that Dylan looked down, and they both burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of their situation.

They eventually fell asleep, Kurt's head on Dylan's leg, and Dylan leaning against the door of the closet.

* * *

Kurt awoke abruptly, stiff from lying on the floor, his neck kinked from being awkwardly pillowed on Dylan's leg, and hungry. He had a headache, and his leg hurt, oh it hurt. He slowly sat up. His jacket was lain over him like a blanket. He didn't remember putting it there. The bare bulb overhead was still on, and he looked at Dylan's sleeping face above him, awkwardly propped on the door. He looked beautiful, his long eyelashes sweeping his cheeks. Kurt picked up his phone and turned it on. It was 3:20 in the morning. He groaned, put it down, and shifted, trying to get comfortable. He longed to fall back asleep now, for the more awake he became, the more the pain intensified. He longed to turn off the blaring light, but that would mean standing up. He felt Dylan shift then, and awake. "Hey," he said sleepily.

"My leg is killing me," Kurt said in response, and a sob escaped in his voice.

"I'm so sorry. What can I do?" Kurt hesitated a moment. "Turn off that light and come here," he whispered. Dylan stood up, and clicked off the bulb, plunging them into darkness. Kurt felt him kneel down.

"I can't see a thing."

"Ow!"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

"What's that?"

"That's my arm." There was the sound of rustling, then laughter. Kurt was crying and laughing at the same time. When this died down, there was silence.

"Dylan?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you go out with me?"

Kurt felt the boys fingers trace along his face, along his cheekbone, and wipe away the tears that they found there.

"Of course."

* * *

Kurt awoke abruptly, again, but this time it was to the distinct sound of a door slamming down the hallway. He could hear voices. Shit. He shifted, and fumbled for his phone again. It was after 7. He felt a pang. They would never get out of here undetected. Then he had another thought. What if someone opened the door and found them like this? For they had fallen asleep spooning, Dylan's arms wrapped around Kurt, and Kurt's head on Dylan's arm. They both sat up quickly, whispering. Kurt's legs were cramped, and Dylan's arm was asleep. After a few moments of deliberation, they counted to three, and then started pounding on the door. It wasn't long before it flew open. Both Dylan, standing, and Kurt, on his hands and knees blinked as bright light flooded in. Emma was standing in the doorway, looking more like a deer in the headlights than usual. "Kurt-?" she said, shocked. People were stopping in the hallways to gawk now. "Hi, Mrs Pillsbury," Dylan said as he helped a cringing Kurt to his feet, or rather, foot. His ankle was by now extremely swollen. "Oh my God," Emma said. "Your dad has been worried sick, Kurt!" "Well, now he'll know where he's been," Dylan said as he supported Kurt out into the hallway. They made their way slowly to the Nurse's office, where they waited, and Kurt received some long needed ice. "Ms. Pillsbury didn't mention your parents," Kurt said with his eyes closed when they were alone, and Dylan knew what he meant. "My family's..complicated. A story for another time."

Kurt nodded. "What am I going to tell my dad?"

"I'm sure Ms. Pillsbury's already told him."

"But what am I going to say to him? These things hurt him so much, more than they hurt me-"

"That's not true. He doesn't know what it's like."

"But I'm used to it. I can deal. It's hard for him."

Just then, Burt showed up, and they embraced, Kurt insuring his father that he was okay. He felt weird having this reunion with Dylan watching in the background, also because Kurt should have introduced them, but he didn't feel like now was the right time. They left without Kurt speaking another word to him, but he wiggled his fingers at him with the hand that was around his dad's waist, without looking back.

* * *

At home, Kurt took three aspirin and a shower, thinking about the night. It seemed a blur. Did that really happen? He wished Dylan was with him now, but the reality was that he wouldn't see him until tomorrow. It seemed a long ways away. He worried about when he would next see him. Would things be the same? Or did getting trapped in a closet (oh the irony) not count? He would just have to wait and see. Just as daunting was thinking up an excuse for limping during Glee. He wasn't about to tell everyone he got it slammed in a door before being locked in a closet by jocks. Well, maybe he'd tell Mercedes

* * *

He was actually nervous coming to school the next day, but if he had known the wave the incident had caused in school, he would have had cause to be twice as nervous. He quickly realized he didn't need an excuse for limping. Everyone all ready knew. Despite having all day yesterday for the story to spread, the talk had not yet died down. At least he hadn't been here yesterday. He mentally slapped himself for somehow thinking it would be kept quiet. Why he had thought that something like that the whole school wouldn't know about immediately he didn't know. He forgot about the rumor mill that began turning in Mckinley when things like this happened, as, surprisingly, nothing quite like this had yet happened to him. He remembered when little Jonah Hensleman was found tied to the commentary podium at the top of the stadium last year. It was talk for days. And now, for once, he was being talked about by the whole school, but instead of hot gossip, it was _Hey, did you hear about the fags getting locked in a closet hahaha isn't that funny? _Fortunately, Kurt was good at ignoring and deflecting. He had to be. His better than you attitude was his way of protecting himself, and he had honed his skill. Making his way through the hallway he kept his head high. His locker seemed very far away. Thank god he hadn't needed crutches to add to his humiliation. When he finally made it there, he was greeted by a note stuffed into the crack of his locker, informing him to meet him after school by the Athletic office. He was a little disappointed that it wasn't sooner, but he nonetheless impatiently waited for the day to end, enduring Glee club's verbal sympathy cards of "that sucks" and then limped over to the athletic department. After ten minutes, he heard a door slam, and then shouting, and then the main door burst open to reveal a pale faced Dylan. He was laughing. He made a beeline for Kurt when he saw him, grabbed his hand, interlaced their fingers, and said, "Let's get the fuck out of here." Before Kurt could ask, he said excitedly: "I need moral support. I just quit the football team."

"Good for you! What did he say?"

"That it's not fair to the team that I quit mid-season, blah blah blah, and I told him, in so many words, he can't force me to play, and he blew a lot of steam, and that was that."

"Did you tell him _why_, that you were being beat up-?"

"Sweetie- (Kurt melted a little when he called him that) "Sweetie, it wouldn't have helped. You have to understand how these guys work. He'd of told me to button up, or something, be a man, whatever. Such is the glory of our public school system."

"I still can't believe he wouldn't understand, after you getting locked in a closet overnight, he must know about that, all the teachers do."

"Yea, he mentioned that and told me he'd talk to them, a lot of good that would do. God, I feel so free! And they said I can join track on Friday."

"I'm glad." They were now walking across the lawn towards the parking lot.

"So..how was your day?" Dylan said sarcastically. Kurt exaggeratingly rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Me too. At least you don't have an entire football team out for your blood to look forward to tomorrow when they find out I quit the team."

"Does it feel like defeat? Quitting, I mean?" Kurt asked seriously. Dylan shrugged. "It was my only option. I had to get out of there. The closet thing was the last straw." He looked at Kurt, and continued, smiling. "But..if they hadn't beat me up you might have never found me." Kurt smiled and said, "Soooo...what now?"

"You tell me."

"I say we go to my house, do our homework, and then do something fun, to celebrate."

Dylan looked at him, smiling. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Kurt opened the front door of his house, saying "My dad won't be back till five, so we can-" Dylan cut him off by elbowing him, and Kurt looked to the kitchen, coming face to face with Burt Hummel, standing frozen behind the counter, one hand immersed in a bag of tortilla chips. Kurt's eyes widened. "Dad! What are you doing here?" His father unfroze and came out from behind the kitchen counter. "My appointment got canceled. Who's this?"

"Um, dad, this is Dylan. Dylan..my father, Burt." Dylan stepped forward, cool as ever, and shook hands. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel."

"Kurt's told me a lot about you." Burt was smiling. "He has?" Dylan said politely. Burt nodded, and there followed an awkward beat. "So, what are you two up to?" Burt said. "Homework," they both said at the same time. Kurt's came out even higher than his normal voice. Burt nodded, still smiling, acting as painfully casual as possible. Kurt was mentally kicking himself. "Okay. Um, we'll just be in my room," he said and tried to flee the scene. Burt shouted after him: "Well, be, you know, caref-"

"Ya, I got it, Dad." He led Dylan down to the basement, and didn't turn around till he got there.

"Your father seems nice," was the first thing Dylan said casually, but with hidden amusement. A corner of his mouth was turned up. Kurt let out a noise of exasperation. "Could that have _been_ any more awkward?" Dylan laughed and stepped forward to examine Kurt's room. "Could have been worse. My mom walked in on my sister screwing some guy." Kurt laughed. It was so easy to be around him. "How old is your sister?"

"Eighteen. I don't live with her anymore, she moved out a year ago. I live with my aunt now." Kurt decided not to press for info. He said instead: "What do you think?" Dylan stopped his examination of the room, and walked to Kurt. He looped his fingers through Kurt's belt loops and pulled him close. "I think it's perfect. Like you." Kurt felt his face go red. Dylan was smiling down at him. "I love it when you do that," he said, running a finger along his cheek. "I hate it," Kurt said, looking down, then up. They were looking into each others eyes for a beat, and Kurt knew what was coming. All he could think was thisisit thisisit, and then Dylan bent his head to kiss him.

Kurt always wondered what people said to one another, after they kiss in movies. They always cut away, and you never saw what happened after. What Dylan said was: "I'm so very glad I met you, Kurt Hummel," in a soft voice. Kurt was melting inside. "What are you thinking?" Dylan said. "I'm thinking I don't want to do homework anymore," Kurt said. Dylan smiled and broke apart. Taking Kurt's hand, he led him over and sat on Kurt's bed and reached for his messenger bag. "Come on. We'll tackle it, get it over with. What do you have?"

"Spanish, Math, and Chem."

"Okay, can we do Spanish first? The subjunctive makes no sense.."

* * *

Thursday.

They came out of nowhere. The kidnapping happened quickly. One minute, nothing, the next, a strong arm grabbed him, a hand over his mouth, another across his ribs. They were experts in their tasks. They were out of the hallway and into the boys bathroom in two seconds. No one saw. No one heard Kurt's pathetic muffled squeal. He felt Dylan behind him, kicking and scratching like a caught cat. They were released as the bathroom door thudded shut. They both scrambled to their feet. The big blonde paced in front of them menacingly. It was suddenly quiet. They were surrounded by five. "So. _So_."

"What do you want, Tirk? A body to match the size of your brain? You'd have to lose about 240 pounds." Dylan said defiantly.

"Shut up queer! I'll do the talking! You wimp out on the team just because you spend a night on campus? I'll make you wish you never joined in the first place."

"As if I already don't."

A sound that sounded like a growl came from Tirk, and he lunged for Dylan, as others restrained Kurt. Kurt heard himself yelling stupid, futile things like 'stop' and 'please don't'. He felt so helpless. The pummeling happened quite quickly. Then they dropped Dylan and were gone. Kurt realized he was crying, as he knelt in front of Dylan.

"Why? Why?" He heard himself repeating.

Dylan sat up slowly, shrugged and wiped at his face. "I'm the fastest runner on the team." He looked at Kurt. "Hey, it's okay, Kurt!" Kurt stood up, walked over and pulled several paper towels angrily out of the dispenser and began to wet them in the sink.

"Okay! How can you say it's okay when they- do that.." He knelt in front of him and began wiping at his face. "God, look at you." Dylan reached a hand out to wipe the tears from Kurt's face for the second time, but Kurt grabbed his hand, looked down at it, then back up at Dylan. "You don't have to pretend for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't have to be so brave all the time." Dylan looked at Kurt with the strangest expression, then clucked and drew Kurt to him, and they stayed like that, hugging on the filthy bathroom floor. Kurt heard the bell ring distantly. Could only a couple minutes have gone by? "Come on," Kurt said, and they got to their feet. When they emerged from the bathroom, the hall was empty. When they got to the office, Dylan made to head to the nurse's office, but Kurt headed him off. "No. This way."

"What?"

"Come on. Were going to see Principal Figgins."

The woman at desk took one look at them, and said, "Oh my God!"

"We'd like to see the Principal."

"Um, I'm afraid he's in a meeting at the moment," she said staring at them. "All the better," Kurt said, and swept past her, dragging Dylan. "I'll call the nurse?" She said after them. Kurt burst open the door of the conference room. A bunch of administrators and members of the board swiveled their heads around towards the door and fell silent. "This was a good idea?" Dylan whispered to him. Kurt ignored him and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to bring to your attention a crisis in our school." Silence. "Look!" He spoke loud and clear, pointing at Dylan's bloody face. You could have heard a pin drop. "Look at what our _fellow peers_ have done!" He felt the tears coming back now, and fought to overcome them. "School is supposed to be a positive environment, of learning and exploration, and you have this going on! This isn't the first time this has happened to us, and it's happening to others. This has got to stop. This should take precedence over whether the _lunch food_ is _nutritious enough_!" He practically shouted the last two words, gesturing at the food chart on the board. He stopped, breathing heavily. He could hear an impressed outflow of breath from Dylan next to him. He waited for someone to say something. Principle Figgins slowly stood up. "You are right, Chris-"

"-Kurt," Dylan corrected.

"-Kurt. This needs to stop. Who did this to you?"

Dylan spoke up then. "We're not going to say who did this. They'll get a slap on the back of the wrist, suspension, whatever, and when they come back, they'll kill us. We feel the whole school needs to be educated."

"They will get more than a slap of the wrist," Higgins said in his thick accent. "They are off the football team. Yes, I think I know who it was. We will educate the school. And they will receive a restraining order."

* * *

When they were outside the office, Dylan kissed Kurt tenderly and told him he loved him. "I don't know how effective it will be," Kurt said. " 'Educating the school.' If people get pleasure out of treating others that way, there's nothing anyone can do to stop them. I hope we don't get cornered in a dark alley and shot."

"We won't."

"Why?"

"We won't go in any dark alleys."

* * *

Kurt couldn't have been more jubilant over the coming weeks. They weren't bothered by Tirk or anyone else. His only regret, indeed the one that pitted him most was the fact that they couldn't publicly display what he so longed to shout to everyone. It wasn't fair that others could hold hands in school, show that they were taken, that they belonged with someone. Fear held them back; in this closed minded school, it wasn't worth it. The threat of harm heavily over weighed the longing to show public affection.

Mercedes materialized in front of them on the Monday following the bathroom incident. How she tracked them down between passing periods Kurt didn't know. "Mercedes!" Kurt said in surprise.

"Why didn't you tell me you two had gone official?" she said without introduction. She didn't look upset that she had been left out of the knowledge loop. In fact, she looked jubilant. "Because I wasn't ready to make it official yet. And how did you even know?"

"I can tell."

"How?" Dylan said. Kurt glared at him, not seriously, for encouraging her.

"My man Kurt here is glowing," she said, still grinning, and walked away. Kurt felt his face turn bright red.

Dylan had begun sitting with the Glee kids at lunch. Between Kurt, Dylan, and Mercedes, it was a beam fest. "_What_, Mercedes?" Kurt said again, and Mercedes, grinning, would say, "Nothing, nothing.." It was during these first weeks that Kurt realized how innocent he was. Dylan was by no means more experienced in dating than he was, but he seemed more worldly. The town he had moved from was a far more excepting place, and he had been more exposed. Kurt felt like his world was opening up. The next couple weeks were heavenly, until things came to a head on a Thursday. Kurt's phone rang at 9:30 in the evening.

"Syrian Embassy," Kurt answered, knowing full well who it was. "Kurt?" Dylan's voice said. Immediately Kurt knew something was wrong. "Dylan? Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah, no, I mean, it will be..Can I stay with you tonight? I know it's really late, and it's a school night." Kurt, surprised, hesitated for a moment.

"Of course. Of course you can. What's going on?"

"Um, I kinda got kicked out of my Aunt's house. I'll be there in a few. I'll tell you then. I gotta go."

"Okay, Okay," said Kurt helplessly. The line went dead. He hung up the phone and stared into space.

Dylan arrived on Kurt's doorstep twenty minutes later, looking every part a fugitive, dragging a hastily packed suitcase and his book bag. It was raining, and he had his hood up. His eyes were red from crying, Kurt could see he was trying not to show it. In that moment, Kurt felt a swell of love for him, as well as feeling helpless, sorry for him, and for some reason, guilty. Maybe because in that moment he felt naive and privileged. Before Kurt could say anything, Dylan made some wisecrack about his current situation, and Kurt mentally praised him for putting on a brave face. Kurt helped him drag his bag into the hallway, asking "What happened?"

"My aunt is fucking crazy. She sits on her ass and I do EVERYTHING in her house, I cook dinner, I do the dishes. And then she bitches that my room is a mess, there's crap everywhere, and she threatened to throw it all outside tonight. Most of the time my room is spotless, but right now I don't have time to clean it, because of _homework_ and _track_.." They were in Kurt's basement by now. "and I tell her this and that I'll clean it tomorrow and she switches tact and starts _bitching_ at me that I'm not pulling my weight around here, that I need to get a job, blah blah. I am so done. God, if she dragged all my stuff outside, I'm going to kill her."

"So, it's not because of the gay thing?" Kurt said. Dylan looked at him. "Well, that's part of it too, but that part isn't worth repeating."

Kurt reached out to him. "Babe, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Hey, do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Sure."

He came back down the stairs, running a hand through his damp hair. He was wearing a pair of Kurt's pajamas, as he had evidently forgot to pack his own. He sighed and sat on the edge of Kurt's bed, then flopped backwards and lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. Then he looked over at Kurt. Kurt said, "What are you going to do?"

"Move back in with my dad."

"Doesn't he smoke like a chimney?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't he live with your alcoholic stepmother who you hate?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't he live like 11 miles away?"

"Yes."

"That's it. You're moving in with me." Dylan sat up. "No, Kurt."

"Why not? We could afford it, it'd be fine." Dylan took a moment to answer.

"That's really sweet, but I couldn't."

"_Why_ not?"

"Because I can't stand living on people's charity. I'd have to quit track and get a job to afford food-"

"No it wouldn't- stop! It wouldn't be charity! You're my boyfriend! It would be fine!"

Dylan looked at him, then leaned over and kissed him. "We'll see." Kurt kissed him back, then wrapped his arms around him, and leaned his head on Dylan's shoulder.

"I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

* * *

Kurt awoke to the sound of the alarm on his phone going off- the middle section of If I Were A Boy. He was so warm, his brain telling him that something was different in that half way haze between asleep and wakefulness. He heard a groan in his ear as he fumbled for his phone and shut it off. Turning over, he came face to face with a beautiful sleepy Dylan. The first thing Kurt said was, "It could be just like this."

Dylan scoffed and turned over, away from him. "Don't go all Brokeback on me."

"What?" Kurt said. Dylan turned his head back towards him, his eyes sparkling. He shook his head. Apparently this was one part of pop culture Kurt didn't recognize.

"I'm just saying, you can't deny it wouldn't be fun. Living together." Dylan's head flipped away from him again. Steeling himself, he snuck an index finger and jabbed it into Dylan's ribs, under his arm, in a tickle hot spot. Dylan kicked, like a horse on the end of a tether.

"Ohhh..you did not just do that. Two people can play at that game."

"Nononono DON'T!"

What followed was a lot of squealing and giggling. When they stopped, they were both lying on their backs, Dylan's arm wrapped across Kurt's chest, and Kurt holding his arm.

"Ugh. Can't we go back to sleep now?"

Kurt sat up and checked his phone. "It's 6:30. We should probably get up." Then he looked down at Dylan and snickered.

"What?"

"Your hair."

Dylan reached up and ruffled Kurt's, something that under any other circumstance he would not have been able to do. "You should see yours."

"Ugh."

"I like it loose. You shouldn't gunk it up so much." Kurt looked at him with an Are You Serious? look. Dylan took on a theatrical tone. "Your hair is like a bird, waiting to be released from it's metaphorical cage of hair product."

"I'll do whatever you want with my hair for a day if you let me style yours."

"Deal."

* * *

Kurt shut the door of his locker to be confronted by Mercedes' none too happy face.

"Mercedes!"

"Why weren't you in Glee yesterday?" It took Kurt a moment to rack his brains.

"Oh, I had to help Dylan move all his stuff from his aunts house. He got kicked out."

Mercedes chose to ignore the last bit. "I never see you these days. You and Dylan don't even eat lunch with us anymore. But _now_ you're skipping _Glee_?"

"Relax, Mercedes. It was just one class." He turned to go. Mercedes stopped him.

"Kurt, I'm really happy for you. You know that. But you have other friends who miss you. You know you can spend time with us, too. Dylan can even come with you. It's just..." Mercedes sighed.

"Well, Mercedes. I have more than three friends now. I can't always come to your little movie nights. I have other things to do too."

"I'm not asking you to come to movie nights Kurt, I'd just like to see you, talk to you occasionally, that's all. And those 'little movie nights' were your idea."

Kurt stared at her, then turned when he heard his name. Dylan was fighting his way through the stream of students towards him. "I have to go," Kurt said, picking up his bag. Mercedes watched him go, a sad look on her face.

* * *

She didn't know it, but Mercedes' words had made Kurt think. He didn't know why he said what he had said. Why did he get all defensive? And come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he went to movie night. He kind of missed it, the more he thought about it. A lot. When was the last time he had spent time with his friends? Was he even considered part of their group now? He was always so preoccupied in Glee. He realized that Dylan didn't have friends to go back to, having been a new student, and so it never really crossed his mind. He told Dylan what his friend had said to him. His response made Kurt very relieved.

"I'd love to go to movie night! We should go! I'd like to get to know your friends better. They seem really cool."

"You're sure it's okay? It might be awkward for you."

"You mean awkward for _you_." Kurt thought about it a second and laughed. Dylan was absolutely right. That was what he was afraid of, being away from them for so long, he felt rather guilty.

So it was on Friday night that Kurt and Dylan stood on Mercedes' doorstep, bearing a plastic container full of iced multi- color cupcakes.

"You look nervous," Dylan said.

"I'm not."

Dylan laughed. "You're a bad liar."

The door opened, and there was Mercedes. "You came!" she squealed. "Look who's here!" She said over her shoulder, before hugging Kurt, then Dylan. "Cupcakes? What's the occasion?" Kurt looked at Dylan, beaming. "Dylan's moving in with me." Artie and Tina, wearing her vampire bunny slippers had come to the front door by now to join in the hug fest. "Congrats!" Kurt felt overwhelmed with happiness. What an idiot he had been to think things had changed. His friends were too good for that. Kurt apologized to Mercedes when they had a private moment, after everyone had gone into the kitchen to pop popcorn. "Don't mention it., she said. "I'm just so very glad you're here!"

"Me too," Kurt said. "Me too."

* * *

_Fin. _Please review if you so desire.


End file.
